Hard to Hold on To (9 page)

He glanced between her and Sara like he was unsure what to do next. Jenna pulled the covers back so the surface would be flat and patted the bed next to her. “Put it anywhere.”

Easy set the makeshift tray down and rubbed a hand over his head. “I tried to think of things that would be gentle on your stomach,” he said in a low voice. “But if you want something different—”

“No, this looks perfect.” Her gaze settled on a tall glass of . . . She gasped. “You made me a milk shake?”

At that, Sara patted her on the knee. “Okay, I’m gonna go. Let me know if you need anything?”

“Oh, uh, Shane was making you all something to eat,” Easy said.

Sara smiled. “Good timing. This is making me hungry,” she said, gesturing to the tray.

Jenna grabbed up the milk shake and hugged the glass against her chest. “Get your own.”

Holding up her hands in surrender, Sara smiled. “All yours. Besides, Nick and Jeremy have the world’s biggest sweet tooths. There’s an endless supply of ice cream downstairs. I’m not even joking. So there’s more where that came from.” She squeezed Easy’s arm. “You know where to find me if you need me,” she said.

And then they were alone.

Jenna was glad. Not because having Easy here warded off her panic and fear but because she just wanted to be with him.

She fished a spoon out from between two plates and took a taste of her treat. Freaking heaven. “Oh, my God,” she said, scooping another big bite. “This is
so good
. I can’t believe you made me a milk shake.” Even when her father had been alive, Sara was the one who’d really taken care of Jenna. So maybe Easy’s thoughtfulness wouldn’t have been so earthshaking to someone else, but to her, it meant a lot. She peered up at him, which made her realize he was still standing. Crisscrossing her legs, she pointed at the foot of the bed. “Come sit down. Some of this has to be for you, too, right?”

“Yeah,” Easy said. “You sure this is okay?”

“It’s great, really. I can’t even remember the last time I ate, so this is like filet mignon and Maine lobster rolled into one. Seriously.” She exchanged the milk shake for the bowl of soup, and the warm, salty broth tasted every bit as good.

They ate in silence for a while, then he asked, “So, what are you studying in school?”

“International business,” Jenna said around a spoonful of soup. “I always wanted to travel.” And, to put it more plainly, she’d always wanted to get the hell out of
here.
Which made her break her promise to Sara—it was really hard not to feel bad about wanting to leave Sara knowing everything she’d been going through. Jenna was going to be a work in progress on that, it seemed.

“Sounds ambitious,” Easy said. “Did you have to learn languages?”

Jenna nodded. “I minored in Spanish, and I’ve taken some French, too. What I’d really like to learn is Chinese since there are so many new markets opening up there. But I’ve heard it’s really hard. Do you speak any other languages?”

Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Easy nodded. “
Hablo español, árabe, y Dari.
”

Grinning, Jenna reached for her bagel. She’d thought him hard to resist just being his usual sexy, thoughtful, protective self. If he was going to throw speaking to her in a foreign language into the mix, she’d be a goner. “What is Dari?”

“One of the main languages in Afghanistan,” he said.

“Oh. Guess that makes sense. Are Arabic and Dari hard to learn?”

“Yeah. Where I grew up in Philly, there were a lot of Hispanic kids, so Spanish was like a second language. But coming to languages as an adult about kicked my ass. Cultural training is a big part of Special Forces training, though. We’re not out there just trying to win battles, but hearts and minds, too. So . . .” He frowned. “Or, we were, anyway.”

“Sounds like you liked it,” she said, unsure why he seemed suddenly sad.

“It was the best thing I’ve ever done.” He put down the sandwich half he’d been holding and brushed off his fingers.

Jenna was suddenly filled with the certainty she needed to tread carefully. “So, why did you get out?”

He tilted his head and stared at her. “Sara didn’t tell you?”

“No. But you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“You’re in the middle of it now, Jenna, so you deserve to know.” He took a long drink from a bottle of water, drawing Jenna’s eyes to the way his throat worked as he swallowed, which made her remember how that very skin had felt against her lips. Soft. Warm.

She blinked out of the memory and focused on what he’d said. She was in the middle of it? Of what?

Easy lowered the bottle and played with the cap for a minute. “Remember how Sara said we were running an investigation?” When Jenna nodded, he continued, “Me and my guys, we were discharged from the Special Forces about a year ago. The five of us were the only survivors of an ambush, and we were blamed for the rest of the team’s deaths.”

Jenna’s mouth dropped open, and her stomach fell in sympathy.

“We
didn’t
do anything wrong,” he said with a whole lotta edge in his tone. “Turns out our commanding officer was involved in some sorta criminal activity on the side. We didn’t know about it, but after he died, someone arranged for a cover-up that hung us out to dry. Trying to get to the bottom of all that? That’s what we’re investigating.”

Jenna dropped the last of her bagel to the tray. “I’m so sorry, Easy. About your team. About what happened to you and the other guys. All of it. That’s so unfair.”

His lips pressed into a tight line. “Yeah.”

“How did that lead you to Baltimore and the Church Gang, though?” she asked, thoughts whirling.

“Some of that’s still unclear. Our commander’s kids live here, and the Churchmen came after them looking for information related to their father. Two weeks ago, Charlie went missing, and his sister Becca came and found Nick, who was our team’s second-in-command, here at Hard Ink. After we rescued Charlie, he told us he’d found a number of links between his father and the Churchmen. We’re guessing it has something to do with the heroin trade, which would paint a pretty direct line between Afghanistan and a gang like Church’s. But that’s about as much as we know. It’s a fucking mess.”

She reached across the space that separated them and grasped his hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her chest aching for him, aching for the hurt and anger she could see in his eyes and his expression.

He looked her in the eyes. “You shouldn’t be the one apologizing, not when our bullshit ended up hurting you.”

“Easy, what happened to me wasn’t your fault. It was my father’s fault for getting involved with Church and not protecting me and Sara from the fallout.” And she wasn’t sure she could ever forgive him for that, either.

“Still, I’m really fucking sorry for what happened to you, Jenna. I wish . . . if I’d stayed with you . . .” He shook his head.

She squeezed his hand. “Hey, don’t torture yourself. You can’t ever know if a ‘what if’ is actually how things would’ve happened. You got me back. That’s all that matters.”

“Well, I’m kind of an expert in torturing myself.” He shrugged, and his expression was so sad it nearly broke her heart. “You’re a good person, Jenna Dean.”

“So are you,” she said.

A storm rolled in across his expression. “No, I’m not. I was, but . . .” His hand fisted around his napkin.

Jenna’s stomach twisted at the pain radiating off him. What would make him say such a thing? She pushed the tray out of the way and scooted closer, needing him to know, to believe. Taking his face in her hands, she forced him to look at her. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“My team would’ve gotten you. It wasn’t just me,” he said, voice like gravel.

“But it was you, too. And you got rid of Confessions, right? That was all you. You’ll never know what a relief it is to know Sara will never have to go there again.” Jenna’s throat went tight. Slowly, carefully, she threaded her arms around his neck and hugged him. Under her touch, his muscles were rigid, bunched, braced. But then it was like he melted, and his arms came around her in return.

For a long moment, he held on tight, like she was his anchor in a storm. He was certainly hers. And then he pulled back enough to rest his forehead on her shoulder, the pain that had rolled off of him moments before replaced by a heavy weariness. She stroked the back of his head and neck, soft caresses meant to comfort. She loved holding this big man in her arms, loved knowing that maybe she wasn’t the only one in need of some comfort and protection and reassurance.

“Know what’ll make you feel better?” she said after a little while.

“You?”

Her heart literally panged in her chest at the sweetness of that single word. She kissed the side of his head, his super short hair tickling her lips. “Besides me.” Reaching out with her hand, she grabbed the milk-shake glass and her spoon. Easy sat up, an eyebrow arched as he looked between her and the ice cream. She scooped some onto the spoon and held it out to him. “Trust me.”

Skepticism plain on his face, he ate what she offered.

Jenna couldn’t keep from grinning at his lack of reaction. “You clearly need more. Here.”

He swallowed the second spoonful, too, but still wasn’t looking particularly better.

“This is a very serious case,” she said, playfulness plain in her tone. “Better make it a double this time.” The spoon nearly overflowed.

A smile played around the corners of Easy’s lips, and it filled her chest with a warm pressure. He ate it just before it dripped, humor creeping into his dark brown eyes.

“See? It’s working. I knew it.” She held the spoon out again.

This time, after he ate it, he stole the spoon right out of her fingers. “Problem is, you aren’t administering this medicine the proper way,” he said as he filled the spoon himself.

Jenna grinned again, happy to see some lightness returning to his expression. “I’m not?”

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “This is what will really help.” He held the spoon up to her lips.

“How will me taking it—”

“No questioning. Just obeying.” There was that cocked eyebrow again.

“Oh, is that how it is?” she asked, smirking. When he just stared at her, she gave in and ate the ice cream.

Next thing she knew, his lips were on hers. The kiss was as gentle as it was thrilling—because Easy was the one initiating this time. After he’d pulled back earlier and said it hadn’t been right, she wasn’t sure what to expect from him. If anything. But this was sweet and filled with such tenderness that it made the back of her eyes prickle. Avoiding the cut on her lip, Easy’s cool tongue slowly snaked over her lips and stroked at her tongue. He grasped the back of her head as he kissed and nibbled at her. The rich flavor of the chocolate combined with another taste that was all Easy and made her moan in appreciation. His grip tightened, his tongue stroked deeper, and a throaty groan spilled from his lips.

One more soft press of his lips against hers, and he pulled away.

Jenna was nearly panting, and very definitely wanting more. “You’re right,” she said panting, “that is much more effective.”

He gave a rare, open smile, and it made her happy to see it after how sad he’d seemed a few minutes before. “Told ya,” he said with a wink.

She nodded. “But, you know, that could’ve been a fluke. Just to be sure it really worked, maybe you should, um, give me another dose?”

Easy looked at her a long moment, then leaned in and scooped another spoonful from her nearly empty glass. He held it out to her, making her heart flutter in anticipation. When she tilted her head toward the spoon, he yanked it away and ate the ice cream himself.

“No fair,” Jenna sputtered, reaching for the spoon. “That is not what the doctor prescribed.”

Holding the spoon above his head put it out of Jenna’s reach, even with them sitting on the bed. She pushed to her knees, grabbed hold of his shoulder, and lunged for it. Laughing, he banded an arm around her lower back and held her in place, easily avoiding her grabs.

Jenna couldn’t stop laughing as they wrestled for the spoon. It was stupid and silly and childish . . . and exactly what she needed. And it seemed he did, too. It was perfect.

Wriggling out of his grasp she braced herself on his shoulders and tried to stand. Next thing she knew, he had her around the legs and took her down to the mattress in some sort of super-fast ninja move. She screamed and laughed, and he was laughing every bit as hard as he came down on top of her. And, oh God, his laughter was a sweet and sexy rumble that lit her up inside.

“You fight dirty, Easy,” she said around her chuckles.

His grin faded, but the humor hung on the edges of his full lips. “I haven’t had this much fun in so long.”

She caressed his face with her fingers. “Me neither. Between overloading on classes and my epilepsy, I often feel like a little old lady trapped in the body of a twenty-year-old. All I need is some cats.”

“Cats are kinda awesome,” he said. “When I was a kid, I used to sneak stray cats into the house, just for a night or two. I’d keep them in my room and bring up bowls of milk and cans of tuna for them.”

“Aw, you were a sweet little boy, weren’t you?” she asked, loving how he was opening up to her. The closeness, the sharing, the way his big body was lying on her legs and hips, leading him to prop his head up on her lower stomach—both her heart and her body reacted.

“Maybe for about five minutes.” He winked. “Mostly, I was a hell-raiser. Growing up, we didn’t live in the best neighborhood. Drug dealers on the corner, gang activity trying to pull in even the younger kids, crack house one block over. All that. Trouble wasn’t hard to find.” He shrugged. “Army straightened me out, though.”

“Well, we lived in a nice neighborhood growing up and here my father
was
the freaking drug dealer on the corner. Or close enough, anyway.” Jenna stared at the ceiling and shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get serious.”

His thumb stroked along her side, sliding the cotton of her borrowed shirt against her skin in a way that almost tickled. “Don’t apologize. Our histories are what they are, you know?”